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she's my ride home.

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She knew that as well, he could kill her just easily in the jacket as he could out. Her breath hitched as he got closer to her. Her back was now up against the door, but instead of looking away from him she focused in on his eyes, her own baby blues studing him. Before she could even tell him to turn around his back was to her, what if she had a decided to crack him in the back of head, but he trusted her enough to expose himself and be open to an attack from her. Her fingers now fumbled with the belts and latches, her hand on his wrist to keep his arms in place well she freedom him, it'd make it easier for her. Releasing his wrist she spoke, "You're free." She said, pulling at the final back, the ripping noise of velcro. She gave him back his arms, the last piece.

Harley had become a Pandora of sort, as he heard each crack and snap of belts and such being unwrapped, he would become antsy. Each time feeling those bindings become looser and looser, until finally he was blessed with that recovery of himself. He was complete now, and as such he'd leave her against that door. His attention suddenly dipping off into something else. Moving briskly into the kitchen, he would click the single bulb hanging on overhead. Showing no disgust at the upkeep, dirty dishes, a opened box of whatever, and the creepy crawlies that scattered about at his arrival, he would open the drawers and fling item after item away. Finally he found whatever it was, and box was taken from up high and tossed upon the counter. His form hunched over that small space as he'd settle metallic objects around him before giving a joyful sound that escaped from him. "Harley.. Harley.. Harley.. now that you've been.. so gracious.. I need to let you in on a little bit of truth. You see..", his conversation pausing as he'd seem to be pulling item after item out. And now he was turning back to her and returning with something horrible in his hand. A gun.

She kept her back pushed up against the door, the jacket falling to the floor with a thud. The light from the kitchen allowed her to see but not with much, she even fished those thick framed glasses from the inner pocket of her jacket. The shiny metal that was now in his hand worried her and her face showed it, she tried to stay uneffected by it, but it wasn't her own life she'd cared so much it about. It was that he tricked her, he tricked her into freeing him. But butterflies in her stomach exploded when she heard that name, over and over and over again. Harley, this time she even mouthed the word. "And that truth is what?" She asked her teeth again settling into her lower lip, threating to open up the day's earlier excitement.

And yet it wasn't her he was advancing on, no. Soon he found his former associate, a no name nobody, still groveling on the floor, and uprooted him by his hair to a kneeling position. He was frantic, having almost worked himself up into that energetic know with all. Listening to the pleading, he would almost mock him a moment before tapping the gun's barrel against the man's head. Thumb would rock back the trigger as he'd speak directly to her. Again, he would focus on her and only on her. "I'm a man whom gets by on life with multiple choice. Who lives and who dies, can't be decided by just one person. And usually, it's the one who's got the gun in their hands." And he moved to her, taking that soft hand of hers into his sweaty palm. Pistol was turned inward, facing towards him as he took her fingers and placed them as they should be for holding the gun. "A." And he would move the pistol up, barrel placed against her chin. He didn't need to say a word, letting her know she was the first choice. "B." And the gun's cold muzzle was lowered from her, pushing her arms out towards the poor shmuck still catching his wind from the low blow. "Pop quiz time."

First do no harm. That was the oath she took when she became a doctor, in the field of psychoanalysis she never put too much thought into this, she never thought she could cause any harm or do any wrong. Until she met Joker, rereleasing that monster was the worst thing she could have done. Feeling the cold metal in her hand she shivered, weight shifting on her heels as he spoke, she'd never handled a gun before. Again he trusted her, or thats what her mind was telling her, she could have shot him right there. Her breaking stopped when he moved the barrel under her chin. The metal left a small imprint under the soft skin of the good doctor. Once again she felt the hands of Joker move her arms two the nameless croonie. Pop quiz, she whispered. First she turned the gun on her self, wanting to remain true to that oath, but then she looked around. To the man, with that angelic but scarred face and then to that unlucky man. She lowered the gun, her head turned away for a second, thinking about all the things that could come from this. Murder, jail, suicide, trust. Trust from him, the gun was now nestled and settled on the B choice. She looked back up and the Joker, she nodded ever so slightly before returning her gaze to the other man. Her finger started to squeeze and finally she added enough pressure to release a bullet that would be sent into the nameless no one's body.

You could drop a pin in the complete silence, the overbearing stillness of the room. Wetting those lips, his tongue dragged heavily across them as he'd take in each action she made. He read her self doubt, her insecurity, the sheer overwhelming of it all. And as the gun raised, the man's breathing went heavier and heavier. And then it came. Click. No shot was fired, nothing but a return to that still silence. Nothing but his chest shaking a moment, and then the glorious chortle that escaped from him. A dry laugh, evil and diabloic in it's nature. The joke had been on her, and he would remove the gun from her hand, turning to fashion a blunt weapon as he'd move behind the man and simply lob the pistol across the room carelessly. "The answer was C. Paint my brains on the wall." And like an artisan, he would butcher the man immediatly with the sudden retrivial of the knife. Taking his life with a single drag of the scapel he had dug out of the box. Letting him fall limply, he stepped over his body. No one had to know they had been here, and as he stepped over the fresh corpse in an almost dainty fashion he would chastise her. "The answers always C. You went to medical school." Moving to quickly fetch the entire box from where it had been left. He had come to get what he wanted from here.

She had no real hold on the gun he could have taken it without trying. She now worried about what he'd do, she'd failed him. The gun jammed or something, again she'd never handled a gun before so she couldn't have been able to tell if it was loaded or not, She sank to the floor, relieved it wasn't her he'd taken his wrath out on. Her knees curled under her well, she watched the Joker butcher the poor fool. His blood now coating the floor and the parts of her heels that it could reach. "You didn't me the opinion of C." She whispered, her hands now against her temples, not caring in the slightest that O Negative was now coating the bottoms of her pumps. "Explain to me how this is helping you? Please." She didn't cry, she didn't scream, it wasn't like she was upset that a life was taken infront of her, it was the fact that she couldn't get her mind around what was going on.

Cradling that box, the contents of which was very dear to him, he would ignore the weakness she showed settled on the floor like that. He had been getting to her, and it didn't seem to effect him one way or another if she wanted cry, cuss, or bawl. Everything was going according to the road he had set out for her, recalling all their long talks. The tests. She had tried to shrink him, and look was left looking worse for wear now. Clasping the crook of her elbow he'd haul her up to standing while he spoke again, as though he was keeping a secret from the poor bastard on the floor. "It's like I told you Day 1. You're not here to help me. I'm here to help you." And with that he nodded to the door for her to open it, ushering her back into the hallway and starting down the hall. Only to stop seconds later and clasp the knob of the door pulling it tightly shut. "Born in a barn." A methodical pace making his way back to her and opening the stair well door for her so she could lead the way back down to the car. "Oh.. and Harley dear," getting her attention, he gave that chesire grin, the scars giving his face a manical look as he spoke, "you need to smile more."

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editted on 10/24/09; little known fact, Matt and I didn't start Joker and Harley out in the Asylum, we started them out escaping from the Asylum. This is the 1st session or log from our Joker and Harley, I thought it'd be cool to post it.
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deadly-sand-ninja's avatar
Nice pictures! Which one is first and so on?? I'm a confused!